• Walking into the warehouse, he squinted in the dim light. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised; dusk was only just beginning, after all, and the sun still peeked a few rays that should have been lethal to the bar's namesake. Nevertheless, he always did believe in showing up early to scout out the scene. Chairs, couches, furniture ranging from simply and austerely crafted stools to luxuriously embroidered chaise lounges, all relatively scattered about what had once been the place's workfloor, made a bit of a contrast to an almost diner-style bar and stools up against a wall. Clearing his mind, he took off his jacket and eased himself into the form he felt so very comfortable in. After a second thought, he unbuttoned the front of his shirt; right away, he decided it was the right choice. Sheltered from the dying sunlight though the place was, the air was still fairly humid, and the breeze flowing through various cracks and crevasses in the walls felt good against his fur. He sighed and sat down on a stool, which, unfortunately, chose that time to crack beneath his bulk rather loudly. He gave an annoyed grunt and looked down at his gut; it was hardly his fault food was so easy to come by in this age. A whimpering started up somewhere behind the bar, echoing through a doorway that once held a rather stout door. His ears twitched; typically, the sound would have held his attention in a more attractive way, but he was rather disappointed that the silence was broken. The whimpers sounded to be on the verge of tears. He had no illusions as to what their source would be used for, and little regret about that fact itself. He considered ending their pain as a mercy, but despite the problems of hunger and silence it would solve, he had a feeling it would be frowned upon as either theft or destruction of property. Sparing a glance to the door showed him that the last rays of dusk were gone, and twilight was fully upon the area. The first patrons would be coming soon, if not the owner herself. He turned his gaze to the rafters. It was hardly a tiring jump up. He congratulated his timing as a woman walked into the warehouse, or the bar, as it would be until dawn, and made a vexed sound upon finding the broken stool. She sighed, and made her way through the furniture to the bar counter. He gave his own sigh and made himself comfortable. He had heard quite a lot about this place. Very little doubt existed in his mind that he'd get at least a single night of entertainment while he waited. Watching humans was entertaining in and of itself; the more unnatural denizens of the world made observation that much more fun.